


Amortentia

by disloyalorderoftrash



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, ryan is really dumb again, there's also a frerard subplot, this was so much fun to write tbh i still love the hp universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disloyalorderoftrash/pseuds/disloyalorderoftrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryden Hogwarts AU: Ryan, a Slytherin, is a talented student and especially good at potions, very much unlike his Hufflepuff classmate Brendon Urie. In fact, this guy is so bad that Ryan is asked to give him private lessons. He agrees to do it, but only grudgingly - after all, he hates the boy, doesn't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amortentia

# Amortentia

I don't know what whoever makes the timetables was thinking when they put Slytherins and Hufflepuffs together for Potions. The only good part about it is getting to see Snape humiliate the Hufflepuffs – they deserve it – but otherwise, they are annoying the hell out of me. Especially that Urie kid is testing my patience every lesson. 

I can't wait for next year, when all of them will have failed their Potions OWLs. I will pass with an O for Outstanding, of course, since I am the year's best potionmaker and, hands down, the entire school's most promising new talent. 

I finish today's exercise with ease, mixing and stirring and heating the right ingredients until the clear shocking pink liquid is bubbling in my cauldron, looking just as it is supposed to look. The others are still working, brows furrowed, apparently trying hard to concentrate. Snape sweeps past me, giving my cauldron a quick glance and nodding approvingly. “Well done, Ryan. As always.” With a satisfied smile, I lean back to watch the others mess around. 

A loud bang at the other end of the room, followed by erupting laughter and a foul smell spreading in the dungeon. I roll my eyes. Incapable. 

“Urie!” Snape rushes towards the source of the noise. “Is it too much to remember _four_ ingredients? You were supposed to add salamander blood, not... is this _pomegranate juice_?” 

“Whoops”, the boy says, still grinning. “So it's not supposed to smell like that?” 

“This is Potions class, not How To Make The Worst Stink Bombs. Ten points from Hufflepuff.” 

Urie grimaces and imitates the professor behind his professor, making the surrounding students giggle. Without turning around, Snape says, “That's another five points, and stay here after the lesson.” 

That means detention. I want to relish the sour expression on Urie's face, but Gerard next to me nudges me. “Hey, Ry, can you help me? So what do you do after adding the rose oil?” 

Unwillingly, I turn around to help my friend. He is not stupid, but it is never easy for me to explain things on a level that normal students, who are not as clever and gifted as me, can understand. By the time the bell rings, however, the potion in his cauldron almost looks like my result, although not quite as clear and brightly coloured. 

I am heading for the door as I hear Snape ask, “Ryan, would you be so kind to stay for a few minutes?” 

Surprised, I turn around again. “Of course, Sir.” 

Maybe it is because of some special exercise for me to help me improve my skills further. He has given me those exercises before. 

The Urie boy is waiting too. Right, his detention, I remember. But what does that have to do with me? 

***

“He wants me to _help_ him!”, I exclaim, dropping my bags in the common room and sitting down on my regular place next to Gerard. 

“Huh?” He looks up from his homework. “Who wants you to help who?” 

“Snape. The Urie kid. He got detention and Snape asked me to teach him how to be a little less awful at making potions because he will hopelessly fail his exams otherwise.” Accusingly, I add, “It's because he saw me help you!” 

“No, it's because you're the best student.” He puts down his pen, muttering something about where McGonagall could shove her Transformation homework. Frowning, he asks, “But since when does Snape care about a bad student's grade?” 

“I don't know”, I sigh. “I guess it's different because it's the OWLs this time. And I've heard Urie's dad is some important Ministry employee, so maybe it would give Snape a bad reputation if they all knew his student, an official's son, failed so miserably...” 

“Possible.” He hums thoughtfully. “And why didn't you just say no?” 

“I need Snape to like me. Being his favourite student is going to be very helpful for my career.” 

“You're such a suck-up”, he says and laughs. 

“Only to the right people. I just do what's good for me. Slytherin qualities”, I grin. “Oh, and he also promised me fifty house points. So I suppose I will survive that one hour with Urie. For the house's honour.” 

“What a true martyr you are.” He resumes staring at the almost blank parchment lying on the table. “I hate this subject so much.” 

I also have to do homework, I remember, and pull out my books with a sigh. Reading the Transformation assignment, I groan, “This shit is gay.” 

“Same”, Gerard says casually, without looking up from his book. 

“What?” 

“I said same. Gay is not a synonym for shitty though”, he reminds me. 

“I know, it's a stupid habit to use that word, I don't mean... did you just tell me you're gay?” 

“Yeah. At least I have a huge and pretty gay crush on this guy.” He bends over the homework and starts scribbling furiously. Apparently he is done talking. 

I keep staring at him. “Uh, Gerard?” 

“Yeah, what?” 

“You can't just come out to me like that and tell me you have a crush on someone and just... not say anything else?” 

“Why, what else do you want me to do? Make out with you?” He only half looks like he is joking. 

“Yes. I mean no. You're my _friend_ ”, I protest. Not that he is not cute, but... “Tell me more details about your crush. Or at least say who it is.” 

“It's the one Ravenclaw guy from fourth year”, he says. “We kind of went on a date last Hogsmeade day.” 

Ravenclaw. That's acceptable. “And when were you going to tell me about that?” 

“Well, I'm telling you right now, aren't I?” He returns to his homework. “I'm sorry, but I really need to do this right now because there are also like three other essays I need to have written tomorrow.” 

“Uh... yeah. Right. Me too.” I shake my head and focus on the book. He is an odd person. 

***

On Saturday, I reluctantly rise from my place in the common room. 

“I have to go, try to teach this dumb Urie guy some potions”, I announce. Barely anyone notices me. The atmosphere in the room is sleepy because we just came back from lunch and most of us are still busy digesting the Shepherd's Pie. 

Gloomily, I walk through the dungeons towards Snape's office. I can immediately think of about a hundred things I would rather be doing right now. Number one, of course, is making out with some hot person, boy or girl, I don't care. I'm craving some physical affection. It's been so long since the last time. 

In fact, my last kiss was also my first and only one. Last year, I went out with this girl a few times. On the third date, we kissed. It wasn't the most romantic of settings, sitting in a crowded bar in Hogsmeade, and probably not the best of kisses, but it felt nice nevertheless. Afterwards, she told me she had realised that she didn't even like boys at all. I was her experiment and made her realise that. 

I always seem to fall for gay girls or straight boys. Inconvenient. 

But what is a mundane thing like love when you can use your talent to achieve higher, greater things? I don't need love or a relationship. I am a strong, independent person. It is just my body that sometimes has those animalistic needs. 

Lost in thought, I almost bump into Urie, who is waiting at the door to Snape's office. 

“Oh, hey, Ryan!”, he says, smiling pleasantly. “Thanks again for your help. I'd be lost without you.” He laughs. 

Lips pressed tightly together, I glare at him. I want to inform him that I did not volunteer to do this and I am surely not doing it out of free will, but don't utter any of the words burning on my tongue. I don't want to make him hate me already now. 

“Haven't you knocked yet?”, I ask, trying to sound as nice as possible. 

“I was waiting for you. Since we're in this together.” He is still smiling, but I can see his eyes flicker nervously. Scared of being alone with Snape, I conclude. 

I roll my eyes and bang my fist against the black wooden door. 

“Come in”, a voice calls from inside. 

I push it open and enter the dungeon, Urie following me. 

As always, the room is dimly lit and creating an eery atmosphere with the shelves full of diverse nightmarish creatures swimming in jars and mysterious liquids glistening evilly in crystal flasks. Even though the sun is shining brightly outside, not a single ray of natural light reaches the dungeons. 

“Welcome, boys”, Snape says coldly. “If you would please follow me...” 

He stands up and walks out of the door along the corridor. Urie gives me a questioning look that I ignore. I also thought that we were going to stay in the office, but maybe we will need something that is not available there. 

He unlocks the door to the dungeon we usually have our Potions lessons in and motions us inside. It looks strangely spacious and empty without the usual twenty students crowding it. Today, there is only one cauldron waiting for us. 

“I want you to make a simple, basic Wideye Potion”, Snape says, sounding bored. “Ryan, you show him how to do it. All the necessary ingredients are in the cupboard.” He is already turning towards the door again. 

“Wait, professor, aren't you going to stay here?”, I ask. 

His lips twist into a smile. “I have slightly more important business to do than to help an... incompetent student. I trust you to do it well, Ryan.” With a sweep of his cloak, he is gone. 

“He is so _creepy_ ”, Urie whispers, as if afraid that the teacher is listening behind the door. 

“If you say so.” 

“Yeah, he walks around like... a vampire or something!”, he tells me, his brown eyes widened. “And have you seen his office? It's...” He pauses mid-sentence and adds, “But I guess you're used to that, since you're a Slytherin.” 

“You're right, maybe we're just not as easily scared as you Hufflepuffs.” Losers. 

“That's bullshit. Unlike you, we're loyal and morally upstanding. You easily give up any morals to save your asses”, he argues. “If there is a house of cowards, it's you.” 

“We're not cowards. We're clever and don't throw our life and well-being away for some stupid cause.” 

“But if that cause is more important than your life...” 

I interrupt him. “I'm not in the mood for a discussion about ethics right now. You're here to hopefully learn something, not to dispute with me.” 

He scowls. “You know what, I don't care. I'll fail Potions, so what? I'm good at plenty of other subjects.” 

“Sure.” At being annoying he surely gets an O. “We have to do this. Snape will know if we don't.” 

“Fuck Snape!”, he says and immediately covers his mouth with his hand, looking shocked that he actually voiced his thought. 

I roll my eyes and walk over to the cupboard to retrieve the ingredients we need. “You can heat the cauldron. Medium temperature.” 

“What does medium mean?” 

“Don't tell me you seriously don't know that.” 

“I don't.” 

I sigh and return to the cauldron with my hands full of snake fangs and billywig stings. “I'll show you.” 

Teaching him proves to be even more difficult than I thought. He has the attention span and short-term memory of a goldfish. Any tiny distraction means him forgetting what he was supposed to do. He repeatedly uses the wrong ingredients and crushes them either not at all or to too fine powder. 

“Oh, Jesus”, I groan after another failed attempt at stirring in the right direction. “ _Clockwise_. It's not _that_ hard.” 

“It is hard to me”, he defends himself. “My mind just doesn't work like that. It's not my fault I can't concentrate on anything, I'm trying! Believe me, it's more frustrating to me than to you.” 

Exasperated, I bury my face in my hands. “Okay. Let's try one more time.” 

After the hour has passed, the potion boiling in the cauldron looks nowhere near as it is supposed to look, but at least we made it through without explosions, burns and major injuries. 

Snape re-enters the room precisely an hour after he last left it. He glances into the cauldron, gives me a sympathetic look and Urie a disapproving one. “Well, well”, he says, “this is disappointing, but not surprising.” 

“It's not my fault”, I pipe up. “He -” 

“I know, I know”, Snape cuts me off. “You surely did your best. Nevertheless... since this is not even close to the result I would have hoped for you to achieve, I am afraid you will have to repeat this lesson.” 

“But, professor -”, I start complaining. 

He cuts me off again. “I am sure you will find the time for that, Ryan. A brilliant student like you, you should be able to do the homework in much less time than the average student and therefore have a larger amount of free time.” 

I want to object, but I can't contradict him complimenting me. He is not wrong, either; I have quite a lot of free time and since I am not the social type, there are not many friends that would miss me in that one hour. 

“And it is good practice for you, in case you ever choose to pursue a teaching career”, he adds. 

Bitter, I nod. I never even had the choice to say no anyway. “So next Saturday at the same time?” 

“Exactly.” 

Urie doesn't say anything the whole time. He seems to be scared. Without his friends, he acts so different. They are known as an – although rather harmless – group of pranking troublemakers, never intimidated by teachers. Apparently, his bravery depends on their presence. Who's the coward now? 

“Bye, Ryan. I'm sorry you have to put up with this because of me”, he says in a small voice when we're alone outside again. 

“Yeah. Well.” Telling him it's no problem would be a lie. “Bye, Urie.” I turn towards the Slytherin common room. 

“You can call me Brendon, you know”, he calls after me. 

I pretend I can't hear him, but I register the words. 

So that's his first name. 

***

The next week passes in the same eventful conformity as every regular week at Hogwarts. I attend lessons, avoid some students, don't care about Quidditch, and do my homework in the dimly lit quiet of the Slytherin common room in the late evening. Gerard tells me about another date with the guy – his name is Frank, apparently – and the weather becomes progressively warmer with every day. 

On Wednesday I run into Urie during breakfast, or rather he runs into me. For reasons unknown to me, he is carrying a glass of pumpkin juice while walking, looking like he is still half-asleep. 

He doesn't see me, trips and spills the juice all over the front of my robes. 

“Oh, sorry, I'm –“ He looks up and notices who I am. “Oh, hey, Ryan! I'm sorry.” He cleans and dries the fabric with a flick of his wand and a muttered word. I have to admit that I would probably not have been able to perform the spell that quickly, almost casually. Maybe he was actually right when he said that he was good at other subjects. 

“I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to -” 

“Calm down, Urie. It's okay.” 

“Brendon”, he says. “It's Brendon.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” 

For a moment, we stare at each other, him smiling awkwardly, until we both mumble something about having to go and head for out respective house tables. My friends, who seem to have been watching the incident, greet me. 

“Typical Hufflepuff”, Pete grins. “All dumb as a troll.” 

“He just didn't see me. Could've happened to anyone”, I mutter, slightly irritated. 

“Since when have you been defending poor losers?” He gives me a confused look. 

“I'm not... nevermind, you're right.” I don't even know myself why I suddenly got the urge to defend Brendon. He is just some lame kid, after all. 

***

When we meet again next Saturday, he has already improved noticeably. Apparently, his longer-term memory is nowhere near as bad as his ability to focus. Unlike the last time, he doesn't have to ask me about the simplest processes, like heating the cauldron to the right temperature. It makes me wonder how he made it through five years of Potions without ever learning those things. 

I watch him crush the ingredients in the mortar, an expression of utter concentration on his face. As I observe him doing it, I realise I have never really looked at him closely before. I notice that, in spite of desperately needing a haircut, he is actually ridiculously beautiful, with his big brown eyes, almost unfairly smooth skin, and those lips. My gaze lingers on them, almost too full and red to be real, and I wonder... 

Fuck. 

I snap out of my examination of his features just as he asks me, “Am I doing this right?” 

“Um. Yes, pretty much. This is certainly better than last week, have you been secretly practicing or something?” 

“You're a good teacher, better than Snape.” He grins at me. “No, really, I guess it's just because I literally _never_ paid attention in Potions during the last four to five years, and with you, I did.” 

Well, that explains his sudden improvement. “But... how did you make it through? How did you not fail every single test?” 

“Oh, I almost failed them”, he states. “Almost. I kind of did it with a mixture of improvisation and helpful friends. But this year, it got so much more difficult because of the approaching OWLs, and... well, now that doesn't work anymore.” 

“I've noticed”, I say, half-smiling. “Do you think if you get this potion right today we can stop those extra lessons?” 

“I'm not sure”, he says thoughtfully. “I mean, it's only one, and this is more about me acquiring the basic skills I need to pass the exam, isn't it? So it's probably not enough.” 

“Great”, I sigh. So this was probably never meant to be just that one hour. “I'm still wondering why Snape is doing this, though. I don't think he has ever really cared about a student passing their exam, has he?” 

“This is not about me passing. He hates me”, Brendon says matter-of-factly. “It's just an excuse. He wants to punish me for... I don't know what for, he just hates me for some reason I don't know. Ever since I entered this school. That's also probably the reason I'm so bad at Potions, I never tried because he would always dislike me, even if I was good.” 

“Am I that much of a punishment?” I bite my lips as soon as the words are out, but I can't take them back. Internally, I cringe with embarrassment. 

“You're not as bad as I thought.” He smiles at me. 

“And you're not half as annoying as you are in class”, I reply, deadpan. 

“Hey!” He laughs, eyes sparkling. “Thanks a lot.” 

I just smile awkwardly in response.”Come on, we need to continue.” 

For the rest of the hour, I avoid looking at him and shy away from the touch whenever his hand gets dangerously close to mine. I wish I had never noticed how attractive he is, had never had those thoughts, but now I can't take them back. They constantly keep returning to my head. 

This is not a good idea, I tell my brain. This is one of the worst ideas you've ever had. 

***

When I return to the common room, Gerard isn't there, and since I don't feel like talking to anyone except my best friend, I sit alone by the fireplace, staring at my book. Thanks to the distracting background noise, I can't take in a single word. This is why I always do my homework late at night, when most of them have already gone to sleep. I can't work while Pete is loudly telling some irrelvant story and all the others are cheering and laughing. For a moment, I consider going to the library, but I am too lazy to walk all the way throught the castle. 

About half an hour later, Gerard comes back, sitting down next to me. “Oh, there you are. I've got a problem”, I inform him, and at the same time he says, “I've got news!” 

“What is it?”, we ask simultaneously and start laughing. 

I look at him and notice that he is smiling widely and practically glowing, radiating happiness. “You first”, I say. 

“Frank and I kissed!”, he tells me excitedly and then nervously scans the room to see if anyone is listening. Voice slightly lowered, he continues, “For the first time. We were outside by the lake, just taking a walk and talking about stuff, and then he kissed me, and... I'm just so happy.” 

“That's great! I'm really happy for you.” I try my best to ignore the small but present stab of jealousy. I am genuinely glad that he has found that special someone, a person that manages to make him smile like this, but it bothers me that I am still alone. 

“He was like, 'We've been meeting but I'm not sure what we are. Is this just two dudes being bros or, like, more?', and I said, 'Well, if you want it to be more...' and he just looked at me and kissed me!” He laughs, as if he can't believe that actually happened. “I don't know what I did to deserve this. He is so amazing, so _perfect_...” He shakes his head. “But enough about me, what did you want to tell me?” 

“I sort of have a problem”, I begin. 

“Yeah, you said that, what's up?”, he asks, looking worried. 

“I'm kind of... kind of attracted to Brendon Urie”, I mumble, hoping no one can hear us. 

Gerard stares at me blankly. “So what's the problem? Go out with him.” 

“No, no, you don't get it.” 

“I really don't”, he replies. “Seriously, what's the problem about that?” 

“He's a _Hufflepuff_ , the worst of all houses, and...” 

“Don't you think you're being a little narrow-minded? Maybe you should start rethinking all those prejudices”, he suggests. 

“And besides, he is a guy, just imagine what everybody would say if we actually started dating!” 

“Honestly... that's so irrelevant. Who cares about their gossip.” 

“I don't like drama”, I defend myself. “And another thing is that I don't think... it's not really... romantic attraction, more, like, physical, if you get what I mean?” 

“You mean you just want to fuck him?” 

“No! I think he is attractive”, I say. “Okay, maybe you actually are right. But the way you put it sounds so... blunt.” 

“Oh, I'm so sorry, I'll try for a more sophisticated tone around the great Ryan Ross”, he says and sighs. “I'd say, just wait how it develops. Maybe it'll pass, or maybe he feels the same way and you'll live happily ever after.” 

“Wow, great advice. What would I do without you?” 

He doesn't even seem to notice my sarcasm, or at least he doesn't care. “No problem.” Humming some song to himself, he stares into the flames of the fireplace, a dreamy smile on his face. 

***

Surprising to both me and Brendon, Snape allows us to postpone our next lesson to Sunday so we can go to Hogsmeade on Saturday. Brendon comes up to me one day at lunch to make me accompany him when he asks for Snape's permission, because surely I want to go to Hogsmeade too? 

We stand in the office together, me calm and composed, him seemingly nervous, but Snape says yes without even looking up from his work when I ask the question. Being one of his favourite students definitely has its advantages. 

On Saturday morning, Gerard informs me that he won't be able to go to Hogsmeade with me because he has another date with Frank. It has always been an unspoken deal that we spend our time there together if I choose to go. He knows that I am the only person I enjoy spending time with. First I want to be angry, but he looks slightly guilty to abandon like that, and I just can't be mad at him because this guy makes him so obviously happy. 

Sure, I could tag along with my classmates. The boys would probably consider me their friend, and sometimes I do talk to them, but the reason for that is mostly social pressure to make friends. At the core, I am antisocial and only like very, very few chosen people, and at the moment, I am not in the mood to put up with the others. 

For this reason, I'm not sure if I should go to Hogsmeade at all. I could just stay behind and enjoy the mostly empty castle. But I need to buy new quills, I remember, and it also won't hurt to refill my secret stash of butterbeer that's hidden in our dormitory. The two bottles that are left will hardly be enough to get me through the entire next month. 

Grudgingly, I decide that I will have to go alone. 

In the stream of students flowing towards the village, I feel strangely isolated. Everybody is chattering and laughing, buzzing with excitement, while I walk amongst them, disconnected from everyone around me. 

Still alone, I make my way to the stationary shop. I spend much more time than necessary with looking at different types of aesthetic quills and colourful ink before I buy my usual choice, plain and grey. It's cheap, and it serves its purpose. I don't have the money for beautiful luxuries such as opalescent peacock quills. 

When I walk through the streets towards the Three Broomsticks later, the sun warms my skin. It is not as cold as it was when I was here for the last time, and now the air smells of flowers. I have always liked spring because it gives me a certain feeling of hope, of a new beginning after the long winter. 

At the counter of the bar, I ask for ten bottles of butterbeer and store them in my bag. The bar lady used to give me funny looks when I first started this habit of buying them ahead for the days at Hogwarts, but by now she is used to me ordering large amounts on my own. That is the only luxury I allow myself, unlike others, who buy tons of sweets at Honeydukes whenever they get the opportunity to do so. I don't need those. I could probably survive on nothing but ketchup sandwiches for weeks. From time to time, I just need something to warm up on the inside and distract myself from the stress. 

My eyes wander over the crowded tables of the bar. Maybe my Slytherin classmates are here. I suddenly feel the need to be one of them, connecting with people and having fun. 

“Ryan!”, someone calls out. 

I search for the source, and in the most distant corner of the room I spot it. Brendon is sitting at a table with a number of students I recognise as Hufflepuffs from different years. He waves at me and shouts over the noise. “Hey, are you alone? You can come sit with us!” 

I hesitate, but then I nod agreeingly and start making my way through the chatting crowd. 

“I don't want to bother you”, I say apologetically when I arrive at their table. 

“You don't, not at all!” Brendon pulls an empty chair from a nearby table next to his own. “I saw you were alone and thought you might like to hang out with someone.” 

“That's actually right, usually I'm here with my friend, but he's on a date...”, I explain. For some reason, I don't want them to know how unsocial I am. 

“Oh, a date? With who?”, one of them asks, grinning. 

“Stop being such a gossip girl, Patrick”, someone else says and laughs. He has his arm put around a pretty girl's shoulder. I know this guy, he is in our year and one of the more intelligent students. His name is Dallon, I think. 

As I watch them talking, it occurs to me that if this situation was the other way round, if I was a Hufflepuff and they were a group of Slytherins, I would never be accepted this warmly. They would laugh at me, make fun of me, or just ignore me. 

For the first time, I consider that I may be wrong in my perception of other houses. Maybe I was too busy maintaining old prejudices to realise that they actually aren't too bad people. In fact, I am enjoying their friendly, warm presence more than the always slightly cold and conceited behaviour of my fellow Slytherins. 

Brendon is talking right now, recounting something that happened in their last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. I love watching him talk. He is so passionate about it, using various facial expressions and hand gestures to emphasize his words. I suddenly get the overwhelming urge to touch him in some way, to lean closer and maybe put my arms around his shoulders like Dallon with the girl. 

I flinch as he turns around to look at me and hope he hasn't noticed me staring at him. 

“Tomorrow, right?” 

“What?”, I ask, bewildered. 

“Tomorrow you have to be patient with me again and endure my stupidity”, he says brightly. 

“Oh, you mean our private potions lesson”, I realise and add, “You're not actually that stupid, you know.” 

“Aw, thanks, nice try.” 

“No, really, you...” I stop talking when I notice that he has already turned away from me to talk to Patrick. The stab of jealousy I feel has nothing to do with what I usually feel when friends ignore me. No, this is ridiculous. I can't be falling in love, can I ? 

***

My strange feeling towards Brendon doesn't leave me the next day when we are locked in the dungeon for an hour. If anything, it intensifies. I can hardly tear my gaze away from him, I taking in every movement of his body, every inch of his beautiful face, and every word he says. I am so distracted by staring at him that I barely register what he is even doing. 

“Ryan, are you okay?” Now he looks worried. 

“Yes, why?” I love it when he says my name. 

“You seem a little, I don't know, absent-minded today.” 

“I guess it's just because I'm tired”, I say. After a few seconds of silence, I tentatively ask him, “Do you have a girlfriend or something?” I try to make it sound like a throwaway question of no real importance. 

“No, why?” He frowns. 

“Oh, just interested. I thought I'd seen you with some girl a couple days ago.” That is an outright lie. “Must have mistaken someone for you.” 

His expression relaxes and he smiles. “Oh, that was probably just my friend.” 

“Ah. Okay.” 

“You should've known. As if any girl would fall in love with me”, he jokes. 

I laugh unconvincingly, suppressing the urge to tell him that there are a million reasons to fall in love with him and if others don't see those, it's their own fault. 

Am I falling in love? The more I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that yes, this must be what I am feeling. I constantly catch my mind drifting off and daydreaming, making up scenarios that involve the two of us alone in different settings... The desire to just kiss him here and now is getting stronger with every time I see his face. 

I could ask him out. I could just do it. But I doubt that he would say yes because I can't imagine that he feels about me the same way as I feel about him. He possibly doesn't even like boys. I can't take the risk of him laughing at me. 

Oh well. I still have many of our private lessons ahead of me to convince him to like me and find out if I stand a chance. 

***

“This is already much better”, Snape says in his bored, indifferent voice when he sees today's result. “Well done, Ryan.” 

I want to interrupt him and say that it is not solely my achievement, but that it is Brendon who learned and improved so much in the past weeks, but of course I don't say it. Maybe Snape would perceive it negatively. I never speak up for someone if doing so will be a disadvantage for me. 

“Since I don't want to torture you any longer than necessary”, he continues, “I would say that it you don't have to do more than... let's say two lessons. That should be enough for Urie to master the absolute basics.” 

What? No. Only two more times? 

“If you feel the need to continue meeting, you can do this in private”, Snape sneers. 

Brendon laughs nervously. 

Does he think this is funny? Another proof that he doesn't even like me and surely wouldn't say yes if I asked him to go on a date with me. Not yet, anyway. If only I had more time to prove to him that I am actually a nice, likeable person... 

Desperate times require desperate measures. 

As I walk my lonely way back to the Slytherin dungeon, a plan begins to form in my head. 

***

“That's the worst idea you've ever had.” 

“No, it's not! Listen...” 

“I can't believe you're actually that stupid. You may have good grades, but your practical intelligence equals zero.” Incredulously, Gerard shakes his head. “You know you could just _ask_ him.” 

“No, no, I don't want to do that. He will say no, and I will look ridiculous. Everybody is going to make fun of me.” 

“That's not even likely... and if someone finds out what you want to do now, you will not only be laughed at, but expelled!” 

“Nobody will find out”, I say confidently. “I trust you to keep a secret”, I add, voice dangerously lowered. 

“Maybe it would be a good idea to tell a teacher what you're up to. For your own safety”, he says through gritted teeth. 

“You're not going to do that, and we both know it.” 

He can't object because I am right. He wouldn't want me to get expelled. Looking at the ground, he kicks a rock tinto the lake we are standing next to. “But still. It's the dumbest idea ever. Worse than the discovery of America.” 

“Now you're exaggerating.” 

“Maybe.” 

“But you see, it's actually brilliant.” Before he has the opportunity to protest, I explain, “I've always wanted to make that potion. I found out about it in an old book I once borrowed, and it's so much more interesting than everything we learn in school. So it's not just a way to make him fall in love with me, it's also an experiment. I do it to learn something.” 

He gives me a sceptical look. “I can't believe that it actually makes you fall in love.” 

“Of course it does. It's one of the most powerful potions in existence.” 

“But... actual love?” 

“I know what I'm doing”, I state. 

“Good for you”, he says. “But don't think I will help you. I don't want to get involved with this.” 

What a great friend. “I don't need your help.” As I walk away, I turn around once more to say, “I should never have told you about it at all.” 

***

It is almost too easy. On Monday, I ask Professor Flitwick to sign my permission to borrow a book from the restricted section of the library for my “extracurricular studies”, which he does without even reading the title of the requested book. I am known as a clever, ambitious student that has never broken a school rule, so he has no reason to think twice about allowing me access to the restricted section. 

Usually, I would have asked Snape, but I want to take as few risks as possible. He might put two and two together if he notices ingredients missing from the school's cupboards after I have borrowed the book. 

Over the course of the week, I prepare everything perfectly. 

The book is hidden in my bed. Before I go to sleep every day, I pull it out to read the ancient letters of the instructions for the hundredth time. Its pages are old and weathered, but every word is still clearly readable. With my finger, I trace the title of my pages, written in a beautiful, loop-heavy cursive. _Amortentia_. 

It takes exactly seven days to brew, ideal conditions for my situation. 

Next Saturday, I bring a bag to our Potions lesson. In case someone asks why I am carrying it I put the book we use in class into it, but Brendon doesn't even seem to notice and Snape surely wouldn't care. 

In the routine that is familiar by now, Snape leads is to the empty dungeon where a single cauldron is waiting for us. He tells us what we are to do today and leaves without saying a single redundant word. 

The next part is what I fear most of all. I smile at Brendon, trying to appear calm, but my hands are sweating and my heart starts beating so hard that I almost fear he can hear it. “Would you prepare the cauldron while I get the ingredients? Light a fire, heat it, you know what to do.” 

He nods, and I walk over to the cupboard with trembling legs. Calm down, you can do this, I tell myself. I have looked at this cupboard so often that I could probably draw its contents and their position from my memory. 

Luckily, everything I need for the potion is available in the school's storage. The ingredients are not exotic, it is the rather long and difficult process of brewing it that makes the potion so famously powerful. However, I am confident that I can do it. I have learned the instructions by heart, and now they are just waiting for me to turn them into action. 

Praying that Brendon is distracted by his task and won't turn around, I start grabbing what I need and stuffing it into my bag. I don't take any more than I need, which will mean that I can't make a mistake or waste anything by accident, but I have to keep the risk of the missing items being noticed as low as possible. 

I go through my mental list of the required ingredients once more. Convinced that I have all I need, I close my bag and return to the table with the much smaller number of ingredients we need for this lesson in my hands. 

Brendon looks at me, smiling mischievously. “Did you just steal something from the cupboard?” 

My heart drops. “No, I, um, you must have...” 

“I'm not going to rat you out”, he says. “And I'm not even asking what you're up to. I just wouldn't have thought that you'd do something illegal. You're cooler than I thought, man.” He grins at me. 

It is stupid how elevated I feel at his praise, how my dumb heart begins to beat faster, not out of nervousness this time, but full of excitement and hope. I try to relax a little. 

At least he can't know or suspect that my robbery has anything to do with him. 

***

After the lesson, I don't join the Slytherins in the common room but head straight for a bathroom on the third floor. It has been deserted as long as I have been at Hogwarts. No one ever goes in there due to a terrible smell, resembling foul eggs and rotten cabbage, that can't be removed by any spell or magical cleaning agent. No one really knows what caused it. Most of the legends surrounding it say something about a failed attempt at illegally making a potion, hidden in the toilet. 

How ironic that the student who did it thereby gave me the perfect setting for my own attempt that hopefully won't fail. 

Covering my nose with a part of my robe, I step into the cubicle furthest from the entrance. I have already set up a cauldron here yesterday. 

I open my bag and take out everything I need today. Careful not to cause any damage, I flick through the pages of the ancient leather-bound volume until I find the part I was looking for. I know I could technically perform the first steps without even looking at the instructions, but I want to make absolutely sure. 

After half an hour of highly concentrated work, I leave the room, satisfied. The first part has been completed without problems. I will return tomorrow. 

***

Since the potion requires treatment after specific periods of time, I sometimes have to disappear to that bathroom at the most inconvenient times. Once, for example, I feign nausea in the middle of a Herbology class and dash to the third floor to proceed with the next steps of brewing. I can't just wait twelve hours instead of the required ten. Amortentia is not a simple, undemanding potion. 

On Thursday, I grudgingly have to get up in the middle of the night for that reason. I shut down the alarm ringing directly next to my ear and hope no one else in the dormitory has woken up. All the way down the stairs and through the common room, I battle with myself. A very strong part of me is demanding to just go back to sleep and forget about the entire mission and the stupid potion. 

When I'm walking through the common room, I meet someone. 

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”, he asks, surprised. It is Gerard. 

“I could ask you the same question”, I reply. “Where were you? I was worried about you when you weren't there in the evening. But I didn't tell a teacher or something, I thought you'd surely have a reason.” 

“Oh, I did, I was in the Ravenclaw tower.” He blushes slightly. “I accidentally fell asleep there.” 

I register that he is still wearing his everyday clothes, but they are crinkled and messy, just like his hair. He looks as tired as I feel, but again, there is this special happy air about him, a light in his eyes that I have never seen on him until he started dating Frank. He doesn't elaborate on what he was doing in the Ravenclaw tower, but it isn't hard for me to conclude. 

“And why are you up?”, he asks me when I don't answer. 

“Oh, I... you know, my... plan.” I avoid meeting his eyes. 

“The love potion?” It sounds disapproving. “How's it going?” 

“It's almost finished.” 

“You know, I'd tell you that I still don't think this is a good idea...” He sighs. “But you won't listen to me anyway, right?” 

“You're right.” 

“Well, we will see.” 

I turn towards the door without another word and leave him standing there. I will show him that I am not making a mistake. And I will be as happy as him. I want to be loved too, and this potion is my only way. 

***

Saturday is my big day. I revisit the bathroom for the last time just before I am supposed to meet Brendon for Potions. 

Technically, it should simmer for one or two more hours because I am missing some time of the required full seven days – 168 hours – but I doubt that this small difference will have an effect. All the ingredients are in there, I followed the instructions correctly, and I know I haven't made a mistake. 

The bubbling liquid in the cauldron is as clear as water. If I uncovered my nose, I should be able to smell my most favourite things, as that is one feature of the potion, but I have put a spell on it to protect it from the smelly bathroom. I had hoped to get used to it over the week, but if anything, it became even more torturing until I found a spell to keep it away from my nose. I figure it will be alright anyway, even if I don't test by smelling the potion, since I'm confident that I have done everything exactly as I was supposed to. 

I fill a part of it into a bottle of butterbeer I have brought. About four mouthfuls, enough for the effect to last a few days. There will be enough opportunity to slip more of the potion into his drinks once he has fallen in love with me. 

I close the bottle again and turn the lid of the second one red with a flick of my wand. This way, I will know which one is meant for him and which one for me. It is crucial that I don't mix them up. 

***

Brendon smiles at me once the door has closed behind Snape and we are alone, making my heart flutter with joy once again. His smile has that effect on me recently. 

“Last time!”, he whispers excitedly. 

I return the smile and try not to think that he should not be this happy because he doesn't have to see me again. I mean, I'm not happy about it either, am I? But it doesn't matter. 

“Since this is the last time, I think we should celebrate”, I announce fake cheerfully. 

His face lightens up when I pull the two bottles of butterbeer from my bag. “Wow, I should've thought of this!”, he says enthusiastically. “You're great, dude.” 

I take the bottle with the red cap and hand him the other one. We clink them together. 

“Cheers. To our newly regained freedom”, I say. And to you falling hopelessly in love with me, I add silently. 

He lifts it to his lips and takes a large gulp. I watch him expectantly as he puts the bottle back onto the table. For a moment, nothing happens, but then his grin fades and every drop of blood seems to leave his now scarily pale cheeks. He starts coughing violently, panting for air and wheezing. “Fuck, what did you -”, he chokes out, before another fit of coughing cuts his words off. 

His coughs become weaker and weaker, as well as his desperate attempts at breathing, until he falls completely silent, eyes closed and lips eerily bluish. 

The entire process doesn't take more than ten seconds. All the time I watch, completely paralysed. What _did_ I do? This was never what I wanted, how could this happen, what kind of fatal mistake did I make? 

Finally, something clicks in my head and I spring into action. Hospital wing. I need to get him up to the hospital wing. For a second, I consider using a levitating spell, but my magic has done enough damage for today. I fling his arm over my shoulder and start half dragging, half carrying him out of the room. 

Brendon is heavier than he looks, and after about two minutes I feel like I will impossibly make it up the stairs on my own. I carefully lay him down on the ground, check his pulse – still there – and run into the nearby Slytherin dungeon, gasp the password at the door and desperately search the room for a familiar face, anyone - 

“Pete”, I pant when I spot the fellow fifth-year in an armchair near me. “Would you help me with something? Please”, I add urgently when he hesitates. “It's a matter of life and death.” 

He gets up unwillingly. “It better be.” 

Only then I notice that Gerard is sitting next to him. He stands up too, and the look on his face tells me that he probably knows what I did. “I hope this isn't what I'm thinking right now”, he whispers as he walks past me. 

I groan internally. He was right all along and I should have listened. 

Their expressions when they see Brendon lying on the ground could almost be considered comical if the situation wasn't so serious. “What the fuck, Ryan?”, Pete asks me, pure shock and confusion in his widened eyes. 

“This is no time for questions, I'll tell you later, we have to bring him to the hospital wing”, I order, and the others obey, still looking shocked. Together, we carry him and stumble up the staircases. The only sounds are our heavy breathing and Pete mumbling swear words. Occasionally, I put my finger on Brendon's neck to check for his pulse. It is there, slow and weak, but detectable. He still isn't breathing. 

Between my worries and the adrenaline clouding my mind I try to think of an explanation because obviously I can't tell the nurse the truth. But even with the convenient circumstances of having been in a dungeon full of possibly dangerous potions, I can't come up with anything good. 

“He drank from a bottle of butterbeer and apparently couldn't breathe anymore”, I tell Madam Pomfrey when we have finally reached the hospital wing. So far, I'm not even lying. “It... it must have been poisoned or something. I really don't know...” It must be the lamest, least credible excuse ever, but she doesn't even pay attention to me. Bent over the new patient, she waves her wand in patterns unfamiliar to me. 

“This doesn't look too bad”, she states, straightening up again. “He'll be up and healthy in no time. If you ask me, he drank some potion that wasn't done right. I've had those cases before, students drinking their own creations. Incorrectly made potions sometimes have an effect like a harmless poison.” 

Harmless? This didn't look very harmless to me. He could have _suffocated_. 

“Well, uh, I don't know how that got into the bottle”, I say feebly, heat rising to my cheeks. 

“I don't even want to know what kind of experiment he tried”, she says. 

The other two, standing next to us, give me a weird look. “He didn't -”, I begin to defend him. 

“It wasn't an attempt to poison him, apparently”, she cuts me off. “Now I have to ask you to leave us alone for a while. You can return in ten minutes to look after your boyfriend.” 

Pete giggles. “He's not my -”, I try to protest, but she has already closed the curtains around the bed and herself. 

“Well then, since I don't want to disturb you and your boyfriend, I'm going to leave”, Pete informs us and proceeds to do that, closing the door on his way out. 

Gerard and I are left standing there awkwardly. I look at the ground, at the walls, at the closed curtains, everything but his face. 

“I'm not going to say I told you...”, he begins. 

“Don't”, I interrupt him. “I know. You were right, it was a mistake, I should've listened to your sensible advice.” 

“I hope you have at least learned something from your mistake”, he sighs. 

“Yeah. Next time I won't make a mistake when I brew a love potion.” 

“I hate you.” He shakes his head, trying not to laugh. “I guess you'll wait here, right? Is it okay if I leave?” 

“No problem.” 

He flashes me a quick smile before he turns around and is gone. I decide to sit down on the cold floor while waiting. 

So I made some mistake. I have no idea what it was that I did wrong. Maybe it was just the two hours missing at the end that caused it to go wrong. I will probably never find out, and in fact, it is irrelevant now. What matters is that I accidentally poisoned Brendon, the boy I am in love with, and maybe he would even have died if... 

No, I don't want to imagine that. The thought alone makes me feel sick. He must hate me now, but either way, I don't want to imagine a world without him in it. 

As soon as Madam Pomfrey opens the curtains and tells me I can come in, I jump up. She leaves to take care of some other unlucky student that ended up in the hospital wing, and I sit down by the bed. 

He is sleeping, but it is incredibly relieving to hear him breathing again. His face is not as pale as it was before, and the unnatural blue of his lips has been replaced by their usual red colour again. 

I look at his sleeping face for an indefinite time. I love seeing him like this, peaceful and relaxed. He looks so much younger and calmer. 

After a while, he opens his eyes, blinks twice and focuses on me. 

“Hi, Ryan”, he croaks. His voice is still hoarse, but he is almost smiling. “Am I that horrible? Did you really need to poison me?” 

“Look, I really, really didn't want that, there must have been some sort of mistake...”, I try to explain. 

“What did you want to do to me, then?” 

“Nothing!” 

“Sure”, he says, giving me a disbelieving look. 

“It was a mistake, I fucked up -” 

“What did you try to do?”, he persists. 

I avert my eyes and blush. “It's called Amortentia”, I mumble. 

“The love potion?”, he asks, and when I nod, he bursts out laughing. “Really? Really?” 

“I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I...” 

He sits up. “You know, you could just have asked me out. On a date. Like normal people do.” 

I try to escape his gaze fixed on my face. “I know, but...” 

“Ryan”, he says. “Ryan, look at me.” 

I obey, and his warm brown eyes meet mine, just a few inches apart. 

“I would've said yes”, he whispers, leaning closer to me. 

And then he kisses me.


End file.
